Black Flies
by RaeEssie
Summary: Some friendships turn sour, because fear keeps them from becoming much much more.


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**Black Flies**

**.**

When Sam and Mercedes fought, they really fought. It was a hard scene to watch for their friends and harder still for their families. They fought dirty, with hard words and low blows. Luckily enough, they didn't argue often, at least then hadn't before it all went wrong.

Neither could tell you why or when they grew distant with each other. It just slowly happened until every moment spent together was filled with bitterness and anger.

This time, their argument had been started by Mercedes. She'd come marching into Sam's apartment, finding him in the kitchen and begun yelling at him. It only took a second before he yelled back.

"If I'm such an asshole, why do you keep coming back?" he yelled, slamming his fist on the glass table top, cracking it. "Dammit, Mercedes! Look what you made me do."

"Me?" Mercedes glared and poked him in the chest. "You're the one who had to go and smack the table because you had a tantrum. You're nothing more than a child."

He laughed; long, hard and entirely sarcastic. "Are you kidding me, Miss I-throw-stuff-at-people-when-I-don't-get-what-I-want? I don't even know what started this fight, if there's a reason at all. This is just you being immature and completely _insane_."

If there was one thing Mercedes hated to be called, it was 'insane'. It dug up memories of a past she'd fought hard to bury, which was exactly why that Sam, in his haze of rage, had chosen the word. But instead of the rage he had been expecting, her mouth clamped shut and her eyes filled. Still, the anger was stronger than sympathy and he stepped closer to her.

"Sometimes I wonder why we're even friends; this is more trouble than it's worth. I'd be safer away from your crazy shit fits." Later, when he was alone, he would regret the harsh words but at the moment they _felt_ right.

Mercedes nodded slowly, her lips curled slightly. "You're right. I'm crazy. We've grown apart, how could I expect you to remember when we haven't been okay for months? Accept and move on, Mercy. Accept and move on." She grabbed her coat from the coat holder beside the door, and shrugged in on.

"What are you even talking about? What the hell did I forget?"

Hand on the front door's handle, Mercedes blinked back the tears. "Last night you went to the club a few blocks away with Finn and boys –"

"Yeah, so what?"

She turned then, smiling despite the tears that rolled down her cheeks. "It was my birthday." She finished.

The statement hung in the tension filled air, and Sam felt the blood drain from his face. It wasn't just that it had been her birthday; it was that he had bought them tickets for a Beyoncé concert. Mercedes had held on to them, knowing they would have been lost in the clutter of his apartment. She'd been ecstatic when he'd given the tickets to her, and had mentioned the upcoming concert nearly every day. But he'd forgotten. He'd forgotten to pick her up for the concert and give his best friend the night of her life. It killed him.

"Mercy-"

"Don't call me that. Santana came with me. I thought we could fix us. We haven't been close lately and I really hoped that a night together, just the two of us, would mend whatever's broken." She chuckled. "Obviously, this isn't working anymore. Well, Sam the crazy is out of your life. Have a good one."

"Mercedes, we can talk-" desperation clawed at his throat.

"Goodnight Sam."

He could only stand as the door closed behind her and he knew that this time she wouldn't be coming back.

**.**

_6 months later_

Life sucked. It did, there was no denying it. From the moment you come into the world, people are asking you to work, to learn, to grow. And just when you think you can have a moment of peace, society throws you responsibilities. But some people even things out. They were the ones who made the world seem a little brighter.

For Sam, those people had been his family and Mercedes. With her, everything was better. Even when they fought or when problems seemed to pile up on top of each other, it had somehow been better. But she left and she hadn't come back and now everything was dim.

Over the last few months, he'd come to realize that the passion he felt when arguing with her hadn't been a result of anger – at least, not only. It was complicated. He argued with other people when the mood struck, but never to the point of yelling because he simply didn't care. Even with Finn and the boys, Sam would shrug and let the conversation drop. But Mercedes was different. She frustrated him, had on some occasions even made him cry. He could have dropped the conversations like he did with the others, but never did. Instead, he fueled the fire and yelled right back. He found it was because he did care.

But it was Artie who had finally come through to him and made him accept something he'd refused to believe. If he and Mercedes had grown apart, it wasn't because they had become different people. It wasn't because of their arguments… It was fear, at least on his part. Sam had been teased often enough by his male friends on his relationship with the short, curvy woman to start to doubt himself. Was their friendship platonic? Or was there something more? The more doubts he had, the more distant he became until her finally lost her.

Cowardice wasn't a word Sam had ever thought could be applied to him, but now he was the first to say it suited just fine.

"You ready?" Mike leaned against the doorframe and grinned, choosing to ignore the gloomy look on his friend's face. "Pretty big crowd out there tonight."

"It's a bar," Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his guitar from its stand. "How many people can there be?"

"Quite a few. It's Santana Lopez' birthday and she brought some friends along."

Sam stilled and felt his heart stop. "Santana Lopez?"

"The one and only. If you want to know if she's here, just ask. Otherwise get your ass on that stage and find out for yourself. But make it quick."

"Is- Is Mercy there?" His throat felt dry. In the last six months, he hadn't seen her face once.

Mike gripped his friends' shoulder and squeezed. "Maybe you'll get a chance to talk to her after your set. She's looking really good."

The walk from his little dressing room to the stage seemed to take forever. As Janice, a tall forty-five year old waitress, introduced him, Sam took the opportunity to scan the crowd. Santana was there all right and already tipsy, but it was the woman beside her that interested him. Mercedes. She was beautiful and, though it hurt him to admit it, she seemed happy.

That was, until she noticed him. Her smile dimmed as he took his place on the stage and positioned his guitar.

The first part of his set went by smoothly, though his eyes never left her. Mercedes made a show of ignoring him and avoiding the stage. It hurt to be there and know that if she wasn't making eye contact it was because she didn't _want_ to. With one last song to perform, Sam was getting desperate and irritated. He wanted just one look, one glance that would him there was still hope.

"I, uh, I was going to sing Lonely Boy but I've a song for an old friend that beggin' to be sung." He said into the microphone.

Mercedes finally looked at him when he began to sing and sucked in a breath. She had been hoping they would never cross paths again, however unrealistic it was to even think it possible.

"_See the sky is no man's land, a darkened plume to stay. Hope here needs a humble hand not a fox found in your place. No man is an island, this I know. But can't you see? Maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone_." Their gaze locked, and Sam saw it, the hint of hope.

At her table, Mercedes felt Brittany and Santana take her hands and squeeze. It was the only sign of support they showed, and it was more appreciated than any exaggerated display of comfort.

"_Comfort came against my will and every story must grow old. Still I'll be a traveler, a gypsy's reins to face. But the road is wearier with that fool found in your place._" It seemed his heart was swelling in his chest. Every word became increasingly hard to sing, but he continued never breaking eye contact. "_No man is an island, this I know. But can't you see, oh? Maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone. So here we are._"

"I can't do this right now," whispered Mercedes to her friends. "I love you, and I'll call you tomorrow."

She was out of the bar fast, before any of her friends could comment, but she wasn't fast enough. Mercedes had barely gotten to her car when she heard the familiar call of her name.

"Mercedes! Please," called Sam.

"No!" she rounded on him, fury blazing in her eyes. "You don't get to do this. Six months ago, we call it quits on what was left of our friendship. You can get us back with some song."

"I don't want us _back_," he said when he finally reached her. "What I want we never had before."

She looked away from him. "Don't tell me you love me, Sam. Our friendship was more trouble that it was worth, remember?"

"I was angry-"

"And I was hurt."

"We could make us work, Mercy. We can fix it…" He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Don't you love me at all? Just a tiny bit…"

She smiled. It was the same smile she had given him six months ago in his apartment right before walking out of his life. "I've loved you for years." She unlocked her car and paused. "Goodnight, Sam."

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_Reviews are lovely xx_


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